Zen and the Art of Bicycle Maintenance

I'm pretty much the opposite of mechanically inclined. In my household, it's typically my role to find a way to cause something to cease working and wait for my über-talented and capable spouse to swoop in and save the day. Recently, I find myself with significant amounts of time on my hands due to an ongoing period of "exploring my career options." That left me in an interesting position regarding my trusty-yet-moody road bike, a.k.a. Al the Madone.

Al and I have been through a lot. We rode to Austin together. We completed scores of epic rides (3 State 3 Mountain, 100 Miles to Nowhere, Marquis de Sade, to name several) together. We went to France and climbed the likes of the Port du Bales and the Col du Tourmalet together. For the past nine months, however, and especially since our trip to France last July, Al could at best be described as a petulant little bitch, and at worst as a pain in my ass.


Phantom clicks and creaks, a mushy feeling rear derailleur, a front derailleur that periodically refuses to go into the bring ring or just throws the chain all together are just some of the myriad and unending issues that Al has been throwing my way in spite of frequent visits to the shop. Two weeks ago, the front shifter broke all together, so I dropped it off one more time at the shop with the admonition not to give that bitch back to me until everything was in order, complete with new cables and housing and and all around tune up.


What I got back was, at first glance, a bike with the some of the cables and housing changed out and the others left the same, leaving me with a patchwork looking build. I'm probably the only person that will notice, but I was a little cheesed about that since, after all, your bike must not ride well but also look good doing it. I decided to let it slide in the hope that all of the other issues would have been worked out, leaving only aesthetic problems.


Unfortunately, it wasn't to be. A ride up the Swamp Rabbit to the top of Paris Mountain and back revealed that, not only was the shifting still mushy, but it was now skipping all over the place, with the added goodies of  chain rub all over the place and no access to my 27 tooth climbing cog (I'm a 200-pounder.Leave me alone) in the back. Needless to say, I was pissed, but a busy weekend kept me from going back and complaining. 


Which brings me back to the beginning and all the free time I've come into lately. Instead of just dropping Al off again with no idea when I'd be getting the bike back, I decided to whip out my handy-dandy Big Blue Book of Bicycle Repair and see if I could make things work all by myself. 

My Personal Savior

It took me all morning, several screwups and a couple of "oh crap" moments to fix what would have likely taken a pro wrench five minutes, but, for now, Al seems to be problem free and running crisply. Just goes to show you how far a little patience and the right reference can take you. In just one morning, I managed to perhaps become that much closer to the machine I spend so much time with.

Al, post surgery. That's his angelic glow coming back out.

So, many thanks to the people at Park Tool for putting together a guide that enables the wrench-o-phobes like me to actually participate in the maintenance process. Now, about that cable housing.


***UPDATE*** It seems that the Big Blue Book couldn't save me or Al, afterall. The next (trainer) ride after this was wrought with shifting issues. I spent another morning trying to dial it in before giving up and taking it to the guys at Ride On in a desperate attempt to get Al at least nominally functional for Thursday night's weekly Sufferfest  in Master Tedd's bike cave. Long story short, Al and I made it to the cave, got our performance in, and Al is now back at the shop getting a completely new drive train to fix what appear to be more issues than can or should be counted.